


Brotherly Love (Or Something)

by BananasofThorns



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Baking, Batfam Week 2020, Brotherly Bonding, Domestic Fluff, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, No Plot/Plotless, can't believe i forgot to add a summary WHOOP, it's there now, rated for language, y'all don't understand this is so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23130763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananasofThorns/pseuds/BananasofThorns
Summary: “So some of these ingredients are a little expired, but that’s fine,” Jason says after everything is gathered on the island.Damian raises an eyebrow. “If I get food poisoning, may I blame you?”Jason grins and salutes Damian with a measuring spoon. “Go for it, brat.”
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 9
Kudos: 224





	Brotherly Love (Or Something)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in December and then just. Didn't do anything with it until now because I realized I could 1000% use it for one of the Batfam Week prompts (fluff)

Jason barges into Tim’s room at 10 am on a Saturday. Tim is so startled by his door banging open that he nearly falls out of his chair. He catches himself, though, only to slam his elbow into the corner of his desk.

Jason is laughing at him. He’s doing such a terrible job of hiding it that Tim is certain Jason wants him to know.

“C’mon, Timbo, get up. We’re going to bake brownies,” Jason says, grabbing the arm of Tim’s desk chair. He pulls it away from the desk with too much force, sending Tim spinning across the room. Tim’s pretty sure it was mostly on purpose.

“What?”

“Baking. Brownies. Come on,” Jason repeats. “Dickhead’s getting the demon brat. I haven’t heard any screams yet so I’m guessing no one’s dead.”

Tim blinks. He hasn’t slept in...24 hours? 25? and nothing is making complete, immediate sense. “What?”

“Jesus,” Jason mutters. “ _Brownies_. We are _baking them_. Let’s _go_.” He grabs Tim’s arm and pulls him up with a grunt. “You are a lot heavier than you look.”

“Thanks,” Tim grumbles, trying and failing to tug his arm free. “I’m doing things.”

Jason snorts, dragging Tim out the door, flipping the lights off as they go. “Sure, if you count staring blankly at your computer as _things_. When was the last time you slept? Or ate?”

“I don’t think brownies are the healthiest option for me to eat,” Tim points out, sidestepping the question. Jason rolls his eyes but doesn’t call him out.

“Yeah, and?”

Tim doesn’t bother arguing; instead, he tries to wiggle as much as he can to get out of Jason’s hold. It doesn’t work, and Jason doesn’t even react when Tim elbows him in the stomach. When Jason threatens to pick him up and carry him to the kitchen, Tim gives up.

\---

Jason is being an asshole. He’s blocking both the coffee machine _and_ the coffee beans and Tim is debating the pros and cons of punching Jason in the face when Dick walks in. Damian is in front of him, a grumpy and reluctant look on his face. He’s allowing Dick to rest a hand on his shoulder, though, so Tim assumes that Dick has at least partially accomplished his mission.

Damian slides out of Dick’s hold and pushes himself up into a stool by the island. Jason sets Dick to work on collecting ingredients. He’s still standing in front of the coffee machine, proving himself to be a very good (and annoying) wall. Every so often he’ll look over Tim’s head and yell directions at Dick. Tim is about five seconds from slapping Jason just to see what’ll happen when someone hugs him from behind and pulls him away.

“Get _off_ —” he hisses, attempting to kick Dick in the shin. It doesn’t work, and Dick just hugs him tighter.

“When was the last time you slept?”

Tim rolls his eyes; his brothers are so annoyingly _similar_ with their concern. It’s exhausting (though that could also be the fact that Tim has been awake for 25+ hours - not like he’ll ever admit that). 

“I’ll tell you if you let me have coffee.”

“Nope,” Jason says, leaning back against the counter. Tim slams his heel onto Dick’s toes and manages to wriggle free.

“One cup.”

“Not gonna happen.”

Tim crosses his arms and glares, scooting back so he doesn’t have to crane his head all the way up to stare Jason down. He ignores Dick’s poorly-concealed laughter and Damian’s huff of amusement.

“One. Cup.”

Jason narrows his eyes.

\---

“We need music,” Jason says. “Not Dick’s, though, because his music taste is shit.”

“Hey!”

Tim cuts off whatever retort Jason is about to give. “Damian’s music is good.”

“Drake—” Damian growls, sliding off of his stool.

“Shut up, I’ve seen your Spotify account. You have a playlist titled ‘songs to dance to in the kitchen,’ I _know_ you do.”

Dick and Jason exchange a look. Damian glares at Tim for a moment longer before he sighs, annoyed and reluctant, and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Fine. Do not go snooping around my phone any more than you already have,” he sniffs, tossing the phone over. Tim catches it easily, a pleased grin spreading across his face as he connects it to the Bluetooth speaker Dick slides his way.

“Love you, Dami.”

The first upbeat, golden notes are almost inaudible beneath Jason’s cackling and Damian’s threats. Dick rolls his eyes and pulls Damian away from both Tim and the knife block with a fond chuckle.

\---

“So some of these ingredients are a _little_ expired, but that’s fine,” Jason says after everything is gathered on the island.

Damian raises an eyebrow. “If I get food poisoning, may I blame you?”

Jason grins and salutes Damian with a measuring spoon. “Go for it, brat.”

\---

Dick pulls Tim away from the coffee maker and pushes him towards the island. “You’re in charge of unwrapping all the caramels.”

Tim shrugs Dick’s hand off of his shoulder and pushes himself up onto a stool beside Damian with a dramatic sigh. Jason slides a large measuring bowl towards him.

“Put ‘em in this.”

Tim doesn’t acknowledge the comment, clearly still bitter about the caffeine intervention his brothers are staging, but he dutifully starts unwrapping the caramel cubes. When the first one drops into the bowl with a very solid-sounding _plink!_ , his eyebrows slowly raise.

“These are very solid.”

“I did say they were old! Besides, we’re gonna melt ‘em anyway, so it’s fine.” 

Tim’s eyebrows creep higher and he throws an unwrapped caramel at Jason. It hits him on the forehead.

“Hey, ow! What the hell, Replacement?”

“ _Very_ solid.”

Jason rubs his forehead. “Shut up and get to work, asshole.”

\---

Jason’s just sliding the first layer of the brownies into the oven when Alfred walks into the kitchen. He looks utterly unsurprised to see them (it’s not like they’re trying to hide their presence, what with the music and laughter and insults), but he does raise an eyebrow at the mess Tim and Dick have managed to make on the counter.

“It sounds like you are having fun, sirs,” Alfred observes, a twinkle in his eyes. His lips are curved into a small, pleased smile.

“You know us, Alfie,” Jason says. “Always something exciting going on. Hey, Dick, set a timer for six minutes, yeah?”

Dick salutes with the hand that isn’t trying to steal chocolate chips from Damian. When Dick doesn’t make any move to do as he was told, Tim shakes his head and pulls out his own phone to set it himself.

“Damian, watch his other hand,” he warns, tucking his phone back into his pocket. Damian slaps Dick’s left hand away from his side seconds before Dick can get the spot they _know_ is ticklish.

“Perhaps I will forgive you for snooping on my phone,” Damian says. Dick sticks his tongue out at Tim, who just smiles back, smug and faux-innocent as he swipes some stray chocolate chips. “Or perhaps _not_ , _Drake._ ”

Alfred shakes his head, fond. “I suppose I’ll leave you boys to it. Do try not to burn anything down.”

“‘Course we won’t,” Jason calls at Alfred’s back. “ _I’m_ here, and _I_ know how to cook.”

\---

Jason does not trust any of his brothers to spread the caramel, but he does allow Damian to sprinkle the chocolate chips across the top. Meanwhile, he returns the rest of the chocolate chips to the top of the pantry, where Tim can’t reach and Dick _won’t_ reach because Jason will push him over if he even tries.

That plan quickly and inevitably goes to shit when Jason leaves his guard station to put the brownies back in the oven. Damian, ever the traitor, immediately breaks his promise to keep Dick from the pantry. He even allows Dick to lift him up so that Dick doesn’t have to stretch.

Tim is looking straight at him and laughing when Jason turns around. Jason flips them all off and says, “Damn, this wall looks really comfortable. Good thing there’s no one there blocking it....” before leaning all his weight on Dick, pushing him and Damian into the doorframe of the pantry.

Damian nearly pokes Jason’s eye out; Dick nearly drops Damian because he’s laughing so hard. Everyone freezes when the jostling knocks the jar from Damian’s hands.

Nothing breaks; Jason catches the jar centimeters before it smashes to the ground. They all live another day, free of Alfred’s wrath.

Tim records the entire thing. For blackmail purposes, of course.

\---

Jason perks up as the first notes of Dancing Queen slide through the speakers. Dick is already doing his weird, twisty-ish version of dancing around where Damian is sitting, so Jason aims his efforts at Tim.

“How old are you?” Jason already knows, but he wants to hear Tim say it.

“Seventeen. Why?” Tim asks. There’s a pause. Horror starts to dawn on his face. “Jason—”

“C’mon, baby bird, live a little!” Jason says, grabbing Tim’s hand and dragging him off his stool. “Dance with me.”

“Jason,” Tim protests, but there’s a smile growing on his face. Over Tim’s shoulder, Jason can see Dick poking a reluctant Damian on the side, right where Damian is ticklish - something the demon brat will forever be irritated by.

“It’s not gonna kill you, kid. I _know_ you can dance.” 

Tim rolls his eyes. When Dick starts singing, he glances over his shoulder, a little incredulous and a little horrified. Dick’s voice purposefully cracks on a high note, right next to Damian’s ear. Jason snickers and raises the hand that’s still holding Tim’s.

“Twirl,” he orders, before launching into the chorus. He and Dick sing-shout the chorus together. It almost sounds good, in a cacophonic sort of way.

Tim finally breaks and laughs, nearly stumbling into the island when Jason spins him with a bit too much force. Dick wraps his arms around Damian’s chest and flailing arms, lifting from his chair with minimal effort. He shimmies (and really, that’s the only way to describe what he’s doing) over to Tim and Jason, easily dodging the kicks Damian is only half-heartedly throwing his way.

By the time the song ends, Dick, Tim, and Jason are all a bit breathless from too much laughing and singing. Even Damian is smiling, arms crossed as he watches his brothers make fools of themselves.

ABBA transitions to Whitney Houston with a cheerful drumbeat that has Jason raising hands, completely carefree in a way he hasn’t been in years.

“Baby bird was right, Dami, your music is pretty good,” he laughs. Damian just shakes his head, exasperated but fond. There’s not even a _threat_ of bodily injury. It’s progress, Dick thinks.

One step at a time.

\---

“Is it ‘caramel’ or ‘carmel’?” Dick wonders, idly, with no idea what he’s starting.

“Carmel,” Tim says. He yelps when Jason and Damian both smack him, Jason on the head and Damian on the arm. “What?!”

“You are an utter disappointment,” Damian proclaims.

“Replacement. Timbo. Tim. Timmers. Who the _fuck_ taught you it was,” Jason scrunches up his face and does exaggerated air quotes, “' _carmel’_ and where are they? I just want to have a _talk_.”

Tim raises an eyebrow, slow and unimpressed and capable of reducing most people to shame. Jason and Damian, of course, are not most people.

“My mother. I can show you where her grave is if you really do want to have words with her. Fair warning, though, she’ll probably manifest and make you wish you never lived. It was a talent of hers.”

“I already wish I never lived. I can’t fucking believe this shit. Can you believe this, brat?” Jason asks, gesturing at Tim. Damian shakes his head, all prim and proper and disappointed. “It’s _spelled_ caramel, why the hell do you pronounce it like _that!?_ ”

“Oh, look at that,” Tim says loftily, glancing at the alarm going off on his phone. “The brownies are done.”

\---

“These are actually pretty good,” Tim muses, taking another bite of his brownie. Jason frowns at him.

“What do you mean, _‘actually?’_ Did you doubt my cooking ability?”

“Yes,” Damian says. Jason frowns at him, too, and starts to stand.

“ _No_ ,” Tim says, raising his voice pointedly as Dick grabs Jason and pushes him back onto the couch, “I did not. I doubted _our_ ability to help _you_.”

Jason grins. “Yeah, you and Dick are absolute shit cooks. It’s a wonder you two haven’t poisoned yourselves.” He slants a considering look at Damian. “The brat’s probably alright.”

“ _Todd_ ,” Damian starts, making a move to stand. Dick swings his legs onto Damian’s lap and easily traps him in place. Damian’s glare swivels to him. “Grayson, remove your legs before I remove them for you.”

“Ah,” Tim sighs, leaning back with his arms behind his head, “brotherly love.”

He cackles as Dick nearly falls off the couch when Damian lunges.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! Damian's playlist is just one of my playlists lmao. It's also what my mom and I listened to when we made these same brownies (which are really good) (we had a lot fewer shenanigans tho)


End file.
